Fallout:Clavicus
by Just Grim
Summary: Clavicus, once a member of the legion, runs from an the very thing that raised him up as a warrior. Though, how it came this realization and the adventure he would have is a long story... One that I can tell you.
1. Chapter 1

We've all heard the words War never changes. Same thing slips from the lips of some ghoul in misery or a history buff. Or from a brotherhood soldier. Its true, in some cases. Its war between people, blood spilt and countries or things lost.

But then there are the soldiers in these wars. What about them?

A soldier; broad shoulders, strong arms, and a weapon in his hands. They fight for a reason and they'll continue to fight for it. There battle is more fierce then any they fought when it comes to seeing the cause they fight for suddenly isn't what it use to be. Or at least doesn't look as it use to.

A different aim is taken then, either to destroy for better or worse. And then he looks at the sky as its pale blue gaze might be the last thing he sees. And maybe he doesn't fight, but instead runs for his survival.

Yet in a world with a new war; men with either guns or machetes, battling over a dam that surely isn't as important as it is to a side that seeks to go back to the old ways.

But for the wielders of the blade, they seek to cut the road down and make a new for there might not be a way back.

But a soldier isnt the only one that might find a cause to fight for, now. For the people of the wasteland, the Mojahve, there is always a reason to fight; for food and water, for ammo and guns, for the sake to stay alive. Sometimes, the battle might be to retain humanity. Or the sane mind.

But the world will look on, watching these new chapters only produce more blood to pave the way. And they who follow it will find more to fight ahead; mutants and mindless ghouls, beings who have no reason to fight but to eat or to sate there selves.

Because this is the wasteland. A cause is found in anything here. Or abandoned.


	2. Chapter 2

Two young men fought in an arena of copper steel walls and sharp wired fence. They held machetes in their firm hands; the blades looked as if salvaged from a lawn mower or another. Their eyes focused on each other with some kind of determination.

"I'm going to win this fight, Clavicus!" The other man said. He had a cockyness in his tone and body. His wrist twisting as his knuckle was clenched around the hilt of the blade. He acted as if he's fought many before, though his confidence was foolish. He had fought a lot of other legionaries, true. But they were young boys training.

Clavicus was a man who's seen battle before.

"Your all bark and no bite. A useless dog is put down and it will be done here as well." Clavicus ran forward, blade first. His speed and velocity matched by the stories of a deathclaw that took out a camp of legionaries before one finally killed it. The steel meeting his enemies in a spark, like the razor of that deathclaw.

Their eyes met close, determination turning to a rage in Clavicus's fellow competitor. He began bashing the blade of the machete down on Clavicus's. He staggered to keep his blade from falling to the dirt of the arena where many fought. His eyes studied this rabbid man, each swing brought down carelessly. The only thing he seemed to think of was getting the machete out of Clavicus's hand.

But he swirved around as his fellow competitor's blade went down with him, his carelessness his undoing. Clavicus walked toward him, each step closer to his enemy. His head rose from the ground, looking up at Clavicus's unchanged calm face. He rolled out of Clavicus's blade as it dug into the dirt. He kept rolling out of the way of the blade till he had some distance between him and Clavicus.

"I underestimated you." He remarked. His voice trembled in fear and yet tried to cover it like a complement. But Clavicus said nothing. His blue eyes darkened; they focused on the fearing young legionnaire with his blade being pulled back, his other hand aiming.

"Clavicus, you won!" He shouted. But the machete flew, spinning in the air and watched by its target in hopelessness. Clavicus only smirked when blood poured out of his enemy. His head Pierced by the edge of the blade; his blonde hair split by a rusted machete and dripping to his legionnaire armor.

He pulled the machete out of his once competitions head. He swung the blade down through the air to flick off the blood. The gate of the arena opened, another legionnaire looking at Clavicus standing over the body. "He was a degenerate, Clavicus. He proved that many times when he never went to fight in the battle with us. You ended his sin."

He turned back at the older man; his face was covered by one of the helms of the legion. He could feel him smile, however. Clavicus just saw the death of his fellow competitor as putting a coward in his place. Even if he fought many other new recruits in the arena, he boasted of courage he did not have.

Clavicus walked with the fellow legionnaire soldier, talking of things almost trivial to the task they would have. It was mostly talk of Caesars headache's, the slaves still talking of a burnt man, Caesars favorite general, and finally the man there hunting for; a man rumored to have killed many legion members and apparently killed Vulpes.

"He's another profligate who thinks he can kill as many of us and live. One more to crucify."

Clavicus heard about this man as well, though it was mostly about his lustful ways and his time in New Vegas; he was an act in New Vegas, a singer. Ladies wanted him, and some men too. At least that what the other legionaries have heard. But that's an odd thing to hear. Some singer killing legion.

Must be a talented man.

"We've had reports that he's walking the Mojahve right now, making his way back through Novac to Good springs."

Clavicus looked up at the sky, thinking over the information. They could ambush him through the desert, cut him down in his tracks with a five or six legionaries.

"When do we head out." Clavicus asked.

"Soon." The helmed legionarie walked away from the dark haired man, letting him stand in silence as he went to tell others of the mission up ahead. Clavicus noticed the sky was blue, as always. It was like what the pre-war books talk about. Especially children's books. Most of the teachings they had were given in Fantastical ways.

Though, off track of the sky, he remembered one story of these kittens who wore mittens. An adorable little rhyme with an adorable story where the mother wouldn't feed her children unless they had there mittens. It reminded him of when he was younger, and had to learn to fight better then he had. He forgot something, he also forgot what it was. He was refused food as the kittens, but also beaten.

It is a hard life the legion leads, but it is for the best in a world where the weak are killed, swinging their fist in vain because of their ignorance to the world. If not for the legion, maybe he would be another of the dead in this land.

"Clavicus, sir." His thought was interrupted by one of the slaves. He had a cleaner face then most of the other slaves, but his robes were just as ragged. "What is it? My time is better spent elsewhere. Make it quick." The slave nodded and spoke up fast. "Caesar wishes you congratulations on another well fought battle. He would wish you good luck in your endeavor to slay the fool who has killed legionnaire, but you will do well regardless." He nodded and walked back to the tent above.

That was the fifth time Caesar had sent a slave to give him gratitude. Though, he had dinners with his leader, the man still proffered to send slaves. He must have some issue that keeps him in bed.

He went to the weapon barracks and got a machete from the stored weapons. This one was crafted for him; he had his name carved in the side of the blade. The hilt was wrapped in steel strings on a handle bar, shining from the polishing it was given merely yesterday.

He also got a few other weapons as well, but those were just for long distance and fire power. They weren't as treasured as his blade. The speed of its swing was an average thing in anyone else's hand, but its the force it delivers that matters.

He made his way to the grouping of legionaries who were to set out for the one Caesar has marked. Clavicus looked them over. The one he spoke to earlier was within standing with full attention on him while the others seemed to be fidgeting with their guns and spears.

"Damn it." Clavicus growled. "Why is there peons in the ranks?" The remark was unnoticed by them besides his attentive second in command. "They have proven themselves, Clavicus. They will not fail."

He still didn't believe in that. But he didn't need to go on with the foolish choice for this mission, they just went forward and marched. They had to take the raft first, floating along the river just to the camp nearby the fort. Then they marched.

The desert was a cruel place, as Clavicus always knew. It wasn't just the savages that lived within or the thief's, but the desert itself. The sun beamed down on them, heat radiating onto them. Some of the legionnaire slowed down, his helmed second in command seemed to have the worst of it. One of the reasons why Clavicus didn't wear helmets.

Even the wind had some heat on it.

They walked several miles away from the eyes of settlements and NCR, trying to hide within the distance its self even if it meant taking the pressing heat.

They made a few tracks through the desert till the night bound itself to the sky, yet they didn't sleep. Not yet, anyhow. They were in a good distance between Good Springs and some cave. The cave looked frightening in the night; the darkness that eluded the eyes from those stone walls within and hiding beast that spied on them... It was something Clavicus thought about.

He looked away, trying to revoke the fear he had to look onto the others. His legionarie group consisted of at least one man looking through a pair of binoculars, two holding their guns as they shivered in fright of the beast that hunt for prey, the helmed legionnaire seemed to be sleeping on duty. The rest were scouting, meaning the two remaining.

Except it had been awhile since Clavicus sent them off.

"Is there anything in the distance?" Clavicus waited for the boy to look away from his binoculars and look him straight in the eyes. Finally, he turned to his commander, shaking his head with worry of being scalded for not looking hard enough. But Clavicus only sighed. "Just Keep watch."

He nodded and went back to looking in the distance.

They sat in silence, only light they would use was the gazing moon and stars. Somewhat foolish, but it would be better to use the shadows to hide their faces and give their target s hard time identifying them. It could be hard for them as well, but they still outnumbered the legion killer.

Yet... Something didn't feel right. He looked at the helmed legionnaire and saw he was still asleep. But he never slept during any missions, in fact. He was even one of the few who would stay up. Things started to look weird when they didn't earlier. Clavicus shook his friend and tried to wake him; each hand on his shoulders as his head rag dolled.

He was silent. Not even a breath coming down his helmets visor.

He pulled off the helmet, seeing his face covered by darkness only. "Get me a light!" Clavicus demanded. One of the legionnaires lit a flash light up, pointing at their commander. The light flowed down to his second in command. He followed the light to finally see that his friend had a big gaping hole in his face while there was a simpr hole in the back. The helm did spill his blood, as it would seek now. The visor was still dripping; it was suppose to protect his face, it was made of strong iron for goodness sakes!

"Damn it, he's found us!" Clavicus shouted. He heard a thump behind him, seeing another new legionnarie fall with blood soaking his helm.

He tried looking in the distance, shadows covering whatever hid the sniper. His lips snarled as he ran into the shadows of the cave, hiding from the hidden man.

It made him curse himself, as he heard the last of his men calling out to him. Only to hear the worked voice cease with a simple cry of pain. Clavicus readied his blade, holding it up in front of him to hide the flash of the moon. He looked at where his men were, seeing a figure stand over them.

He had a cigarette in his lips, smoke rising from the red end of it. He also wore a hat on his head, a simple business mans cap. The rest of what Clavicus could tell was that he was wearing some suit. Was this some guy from that Tops Casino?

He was walking towards the cave, a rifle in hand. It must be the weapon it was using, it had a black tint to it that shined from the gaze of the moon. It horrified Clavicus, thinking this could be the last time he fought profligate scum.

As soon as the man got closer, Clavicus knocked the gun out of his hands with the machete he wielded. The sniper broke down on the desert floor, a scope falling from its stock.

"You bastard." The man growled. He dodged each angry swing of the legionnaire, he was a fast man. Possibly using some chem?

Still, the suit didn't even let one swing put a cut in him. Clavicus swung his fist instead, getting a direct hit to the mans face. The hat he wore fell off as he fell, revealing some fine hair.

"Damn you, savage!" They called each other, a different tone then the others voice, but the two looked at each other again with anger in their eyes. "How am I the savage?!" They both yelled simultaneously again.

"Profligate." The Legionnaire called him.

"Ass wipe." He returned.

With burning eyes of disgust, Clavicus raised his blade in both hands and swung it down, only for the man to roll away. He had a small pistol in his pocket, a snub nose revolver some would call it. He cocked it and pulled the trigger.

Clavicus felt a burning sensation crossing on the side of his arm, he growled in pain but kept going forward. More shots were fired and the aim was still off but hitting him well. Each sting made him faster, and angrier.

"What the hell?" The man cried as Clavicus grabbed him by the collar and head butted him. But the knock to the noggin did nothing to the man but hurt him.

"Not hard enough, slick." He smirked for awhile, then it changed when he pierced through the legionnaires armor with his pocket knife.

Clavicus could feel it trying to get to his organs, but it was too small to even touch them. Yet it was painful enough to make him let go of the man, who ran into the cave.

"Stupid fool." He shouted, trying to run but holding his wound. He was dragging his feet along the sand, machete in his hand. He went inside the darkness, looking for the man. "Come out, enemy of Caesar!" He shouted, his voice echoed with the dome of the stone cave.

A light flashed in front of him, the man was lighting a cigarette with some lighter. Clavicus could make out the mans appearance; he had a curly mustache above his lips, his eyes were closed but under them was just a cleanly smooth skin of a young man. But his voice had the sound of a man who'd seen a lot of the waist land. His hat was a gamblers fine hat, as well as the suit. Except the coat of the attire was golden.

"Look kid," he said, his voice calm and deep. "I've got another gun under this jacket, and I'll make things better for you. I see your in pain, so why don't you just lie down and I'll make it all better?" He cocked another pistol, this time it had a shine to its 9mm pistol body.

But Clavicus rushed him instead, tackling the man under the light of the lit cigarette. The two were on the floor, the legionnaire on top of him. He was bashing the man's face with his armored fist. Each swing hit his jaw and cheeks, left and right fist taking turns to kill this man.

There was a growl within the cave. A beastly growl. Clavicus stopped punching the man to look into the darkness. The two could hear heavy breathing of a third inside.

"You got a light?" The man whispered.

Clavicus grabbed the flashlight strapped to his hip and pressed down on the button. The light showed the most horrifying thing he had ever seen up so close.

The horns on its head, the pale eyes glaring at them, and the lizard like skin made it look like a demon. It was surrounded by decaying bodies, blood everywhere. Some old, some new. The deathclaw roared at the two, standing up to see it still staring.

The man in his outfit fired his gun, shooting the creatures face. It growled in pain and slashed through the air. He was firing again and again while creating holes upfront of the creatures skin, blood pouring down from each wound. Finally, its claws cut through the man's suit, he screamed in pain as he fell to the floor. It stood over the man, its teeth opening wide to take a bite out of his body. A sharp blade reached down to its jaw, going through its skull to the bottom of its chin.

But it was stupidly alive. Like a chicken without a head, only more violent. It clawed at its own back searching for the other man. He twisted the blade around and pulled it out. He took a different swing and cut its head off, a loud thud to the ground. Somehow it put it down, black blood covering his clothes.

His target was sitting by the wall, breathing rather calmly. Yet his wound was big and bloody. He sat by the profligate and the two began conversing.

"Why do you kill legionnarie soldiers?" He asked. The man beside him scoffed and ached. But he had sighed in disbelief. "Because you guys always inslave people and kill anyone who's in the way of your " glorious" Caesar. Pfft." He laughed and coughed at the same time, looking over at the legionnaire who's look had the tinge of annoyance.

"We don't just kill anyone. We kill those who are weak, rabid like animals, the drug addled. And we enslave those who would need a collar around their necks. We save others from themselves." Clavicus said as-a-matter-of-factly.

But the man beside him shook his head. "You sound like the damn brotherhood. You burn peoples homes down to save them, inslaving them instead of their technology. Listen, you ever think that maybe your just wrong about the idea of saving people?

I mean, there are settlements where people stick together to keep safe. Where folk just talk to one another and look over there crops."

Yet Clavicus had a huffled a laugh from his lips. "What of the crops they grow? Whores and chems? All you people do here is waste your life and virtue away with chems and spoiled women."

The man shook his head. "Virtue? Since when has that been so damn important? What the hell is so virtuous of taking kids from their homes? Or the women?"

"Those children grow up to be legionnaire. They fight with honour and for Caesar, a man who wants to wipe the world of sin."

"Caesar can wipe my ass!" The man said, having a chuckle bellow in the cave. "Last time I saw, Caesar stood away from the battle. At least the NCR does something for the people.",

Clavicus growled at the mention of the NCR. the name itself left a feeling of disgust inside. "the NCR can't even keep the trash off the road. I've cut down a few junkies trying to take my coin. Why do you refuse the protection the legion offers?"

The two met eyes, though they couldn't of known because of the shadow that blended them together. "Why are you so damn ignorant?" The man firmly asked. "Do you ever see them say thank you? Don't you hear them cry to their mom or dad? Are you so Fucking oblivious to them cryin' over the loss of freedom?"

Clavicus did think of that some times. He heard some cry under a collar, there was an adjustment made to some so they could never forget there place. But the children were the most upset.

Thinking it over, he did start to see that there was something wrong.

"I... I never thought of that. Its just that I never knew that some may not of needed the new way of the legion."

There was a silence in the cave for awhile. The wind was howling outside under the rising sun, which had begun to light up the cave. The corpse of the deathclaw still dripping blood.

"Didn't you ever have a life outside the legion?" The man asked. Clavicus saw something in those words, a sting to the heart made him think about it even further then he had earlier. "No. I never lived outside of Caesar's gaze. I suppose all he had told us isn't entirely true."

Maybe all he lived for and fought under was a lie.

After that, the two split. Not before he learned the legion killers name: John Del Ray. He was still sitting in the cave, smoking the last of his cigarettes. His life was apparently made from the talent he still had, singing old world songs and putting bullets in his enemies while taking a trip from New Vegas. Odd vacation idea, but he wanted to clean the place up, too.

Clavicus walked through the desert, the sun on his head. Drips of sweat crawling down his face. He looked over the horizon, thinking of the life he had. And imagining what life outside the legion must be like.

A kind neighbor of people, merchants who waved hello and goodbye. It was just a thought, but maybe he might of actually survived without the aid of the legion.


End file.
